Thursday, July 29, 2010
THE SUN CAME UP
I forced myself out of my warm, cozy sleeping bag and hiked off before sunup into the cold morning to try to capture a little of the magic that accompanies a sunrise in the Jemez Mountains. I don't think any story or explanation is necessary. Just enjoy the mountain sunrise!
HIATUS...
Wanted to just drop in and say that I will get more camping adventure stories and more photos up later today.
I got sidetracked because this morning I had to go get lab work done, then, ahem, Jamie and I went to Wal-Mart to "Get David's school supplies and school clothes." We, however, ended up in the "camping section" of the store and bought tents for myself, my son and his family, and Jamie and her family, sleeping bags, pumps, air mattresses, sleeping bags, etc. I even got David and Abigail their own little pup tent with sleeping bags! I don't think they'll sleep in it alone, but we'll see. We're going to box it in between our tents, their door boxed into the middle of the other tents.
My tent sleeps 6, so when you all decide to come camping with me, we're covered!
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
HO-HUM - ANOTHER DAY OF BREATHTAKING SCENERY
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| This is how it looked as night fell over our camp. |
I know there are people who would find it boring sitting around a campfire eating steak and eggs at 7:00 a.m. while the sun came up, and people who would not find the intense pleasure I found at sitting at the picnic table in the "dining area" of our Vacation Lodge popping open Bud Lights with Lime while it poured outside and the wind whistled through the huge stands of Ponderosa pines, but just yawn and bear it. :) (I also know almost everyone in the world would love to experience what we experienced, so I was just being funny).
The sun began to set and someone said the word "bears" to us, so it had quite an impact on how we stored and disposed of food at our little oasis of beauty and calmness. If we were not putting everything away to protect it from a surprise lightning and wind storm, we were putting it back in The Camp Truck for storage to try to keep the larger critters of the night away from our tent, which, even though it was huge, and even though it withstood high winds, probably would not be much of a match for a seven-foot tall, four-hundred-fifty-pound brown bear.
After eating, being a little paranoid about the bear situation, we would scrub every teensy little odor of hot dog from our fingers, the table outside, and burn every crumb of bread in the fire.
Now, I know you want me to tell you a bear story here, but the only bear story I have is that they stayed in the forest and lived their own lives, leaving us to go home with our own.
I am going to just start with some photos here.
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| All we lacked at our little table was a mirror, which we vowed to take along next time. Cheers! |
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| We had to take containers and find a water spigot before nightfall, and one of us (I won't say who) left the flaps open on the tent. See the Victoria's Secret bag sitting there? Hairspray actually kills flies...Susan never ceased to amaze me. |
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| There were two big bedrooms in the Vacation Lodge mega-tent, one at each end, but after we read about the bears, we decided it would be best to both sleep at the same end. This is where we slept. Quite comfy. My bed is on the left, by the window, which got rained in by a surprise rain storm while we were somewhere else. |
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| Here is the scene out our front door. Who wouldn't want to wake up to that?? We could lay in our beds and watch the night fall on this cliff face while we read "for three hours each night." |
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| This was the view across the wildflower meadow out our back window. I know how boring this is getting. :0) |
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| This nice, cold mountain stream was behind our campsite, and this is where I took a bath. Cross another thing off my bucket list! |
I really took to heart the words to this song by Susan Cowsill: "It's what we do here that matters when we go."
So everyone tread lightly on this earth and help her survive!
Monday, July 26, 2010
CAMPING AT LAKE VERNON STATE PARK
I immediately hopped out of the Camping Truck with my camera, laughing. I had spent about three days trying to fly to Albuquerque for this camping trip, had driven about 80 miles up the side of a mountain, prepared to help raise the Vacation Lodge mega tent, pee in a field, gather wood, and as my reward, lay in my sleeping bag and look at the stars in that huge sky with no light pollution. Susan, on the other hand, was in shock, staring out the window at the STOP sign, sputtering a few unintelligible words.
Time to regroup. And we did. I said, "I saw another campground a few miles back, want to try that?" And not having fully recovered yet, she said, "Yeah." So we backtracked to the next place, found the gate open, and drove in. It was pretty but crowded, and eagle-eyed Susan immediately knew there was no water. We had to have water, there were no two ways about that. We stopped and talked to a couple on bikes who confirmed there was no water, but told us about the campground at Lake Vernon State Park, if we were willing to really make a drive and go over "unimproved mountain roads" to get there. We were willing. We had a gigantic tent to put up, a tent that had never been out of the box, the box in fact still factory sealed, and the sun was starting to drop pretty quickly.
Once we saw the signs to the lake, and drove for about three miles on a washboard dirt road, at about five miles per hour to keep from ruining the suspension on the Camping Truck, soon realizing this could not be right, we found a nice woman walking out there in the middle of nowhere, I decided she must have been an angel, and she directed us back the direction from which we had come, and about thirty minutes later, we actually found the campground.
After several laps around the campground, pretty large, really, considering we had no idea it was there, but thankfully fairly empty, too, we settled on our wilderness home for the next few days...near enough to an outhouse to use that, but out in the middle of a meadow of wildflowers and near a stream that was gorgeous.
We set about removing said Vacation Lodge from the box and began laughing as we laid out the tarps and took a look at the directions for raising the tent. On the box it said, "Five easy steps." Of course if Susan had seen the directions INSIDE the box first, she would never have made the purchase, which, in my way of thinking, was sort of trickery.
At one point, we picked up the tarps and began trying to figure out how to make a lean-to for the night, because no way were two small girls going to be able to reach the dome of that tent to put it up. As we were contemplating our dilemma in our shorts and our smiles, a second Camping Truck pulled around the curve and we heard, "You girls need some help?"
Were we going to say "No?" Now this guy was like a knight in shining armor to us. We cracked open a few Bud Lights, and the three of us went to work on that tent. I would hammer in a stake, say, "Sip break!" And we would all take a sip, or a gulp (it was getting hot out there). Someone would push a pole into the right flap and say, "Beer break." But eventually, our house was constructed of bricks, we found out when a mountain wind storm blew through about an hour later taking everything with it except, what do you think? Our tent! There she stood, so proud.
Before the knight left us, we did introductions, and I swear to God this is true...his name was Roland. From near Denver. So if Roland somehow reads this blog, THANK YOU AGAIN!
And that's it for this chapter. As you can see, the tent was awesome. We were quite proud of it...
And later, the adventure begins...
Time to regroup. And we did. I said, "I saw another campground a few miles back, want to try that?" And not having fully recovered yet, she said, "Yeah." So we backtracked to the next place, found the gate open, and drove in. It was pretty but crowded, and eagle-eyed Susan immediately knew there was no water. We had to have water, there were no two ways about that. We stopped and talked to a couple on bikes who confirmed there was no water, but told us about the campground at Lake Vernon State Park, if we were willing to really make a drive and go over "unimproved mountain roads" to get there. We were willing. We had a gigantic tent to put up, a tent that had never been out of the box, the box in fact still factory sealed, and the sun was starting to drop pretty quickly.
Once we saw the signs to the lake, and drove for about three miles on a washboard dirt road, at about five miles per hour to keep from ruining the suspension on the Camping Truck, soon realizing this could not be right, we found a nice woman walking out there in the middle of nowhere, I decided she must have been an angel, and she directed us back the direction from which we had come, and about thirty minutes later, we actually found the campground.
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| Lake Vernon, well worth the few hours it took to find. |
We set about removing said Vacation Lodge from the box and began laughing as we laid out the tarps and took a look at the directions for raising the tent. On the box it said, "Five easy steps." Of course if Susan had seen the directions INSIDE the box first, she would never have made the purchase, which, in my way of thinking, was sort of trickery.
At one point, we picked up the tarps and began trying to figure out how to make a lean-to for the night, because no way were two small girls going to be able to reach the dome of that tent to put it up. As we were contemplating our dilemma in our shorts and our smiles, a second Camping Truck pulled around the curve and we heard, "You girls need some help?"
Were we going to say "No?" Now this guy was like a knight in shining armor to us. We cracked open a few Bud Lights, and the three of us went to work on that tent. I would hammer in a stake, say, "Sip break!" And we would all take a sip, or a gulp (it was getting hot out there). Someone would push a pole into the right flap and say, "Beer break." But eventually, our house was constructed of bricks, we found out when a mountain wind storm blew through about an hour later taking everything with it except, what do you think? Our tent! There she stood, so proud.
Before the knight left us, we did introductions, and I swear to God this is true...his name was Roland. From near Denver. So if Roland somehow reads this blog, THANK YOU AGAIN!
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| The weather we were starting to worry about before Roland showed up. |
And later, the adventure begins...
Sunday, July 25, 2010
MY TRIP TO NEW MEXICO - MONDAY
At 5:00 a.m. on Monday, I left my comfy king bed behind and hit the road, hoping that this would be the day I would honestly manage to GET to Albuquerque to embark on my Great Adventure with Susan, a much-needed, much-planned trek to 8000 feet to Jemez Falls campground, where the deer, the elk, and the bears play.
At the airport in Louisville, I questioned the Southwest ticket agent: "What the heck happened on Saturday that kept me from getting into the cool mountains of New Mexico??" He said, "A teacher's convention. Fifty-six-hundred educators were all trying to get out of this city and go home."
Well, with that explained, I dropped my suitcase and confidently hiked to the security line. Once there, of course, there was the shoe-removal, makeup-in-a-Baggie removal, computer removal, Kindle removal, and jacket removal, which I am very unorganized with, plus I sweat with all the exertion with the humidity what it is here. It takes me about ten minutes to organize everything into the bins, four seconds to walk through the screener, and ten minutes to reorganize everything back onto my person.
With my Buddy Pass in hand, I approached the gait and learned that I actually had a seat on that first flight out. Giddy with excitement, I settled in between the two people who were forced by process of elimination to put up with me for the next 3-1/2 hours as we zipped at 460 miles per hour toward my first stop, Phoenix, where my cousin was going to meet me for breakfast in the airport.
The flight seemed fairly short, no dramatic things happened, and within a mere few hours I was hugging Tracy and we were polishing off pastries and coffee. I am not sure when it actually crept into my brain that I was going to have to redo the security process. It seems ridiculous to say it was worth it, because of course it was, but as I held up the line unloading my computer, removing shoes, removing liquids-in-a-Baggie, etc., etc., etc., I seriously doubt that anyone else in the line behind me would have considered anything worth what I was putting them through.
It almost seemed ridiculous to have to get on another plane for the little forty-five-minute hop to Albuquerque, and it seemed even more ridiculous that the fight attendants had to take drink orders for 200 passengers and try to work in a full service in that period of time, but in no time flat, I was hugging Susan, next, in Albuquerque, New Mexico, and after some hugging, jumping up and down, retrieving my suitcase, we were soon on our way, in her well-stocked Camping Truck. It was almost impossible to squeeze in the little amount of stuff I brought with me because in one month, Susan had turned into a camping monster and had everything from a tent ("Vacation Lodge"), a HUGE tent she had never tried to put up before, to a portable picnic table, and I jumped behind the wheel and we left the city behind and were giddy with the lack of oxygen at 8000 feet.
Soon, we found the visitor's center for the Jemez Reservation, and made a stop in there for our final "real" bathroom break for the next three days, and to find a map.
This is the visitor's center and a kiva out back of the visitor's center:
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| Not sure what this was for, and didn't really ask. |
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| Look at that beautiful sky and enjoy it because it was pretty much the last of the blue we saw on the trip. |
One of the little villages we passed through had this gorgeous church sitting right on the road, and after a terrifying, death-defying moment when, regardless of the steep fall into a ravine on both sides of us, making a quick stop, checking the rearview mirror and seeing nobody behind me, and pulling into a little indentation on the road, doing a U-turn and returning to the church, I took this gorgeous picture:
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| How would you like to sit in church on Sunday morning and see this work of God? |
The next touristy stop we made was a place called Soda Falls. People go there to swim under the falls on hot days, and it was tempting, but trying to hurdle the guardrail and roll down the rocky hill to get there just was not going to happen. It became more appealing to just watch others enjoy their little dip.
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| All this beauty, even this skull-like cave dwelling cliff wall, was carved from volcanoes. |
On we drove, higher into the Jemez Mountains, anticipating raising our Vacation Lodge mega-tent, starting a fire, and watching the stars pop out one by one on a clear, quiet, oxygen-deprived night, kicking back, popping open the Bud Lights with Lime, cooking a couple of hot dogs, crawling into sleeping bags and reading until falling asleep, no worries, no troubles.
Susan said, "Mick, it's just around this curve!!" And we giggled in anticipation, pulled in and got our first view...
Stop us? Deter us? Never!
Stay tuned for what happened next!
Sunday, July 18, 2010
MY TRIP TO NEW MEXICO SO FAR - DAY 2
Inspired by my cousin's posting of an article from our hometown newspaper, I am going to preview MY big trip here, and if everyone likes it, I might submit it for consideration to The Press...so here goes:
As is normal for Kathy before she travels, she only slept about four hours the night before in anticipation. Being too cheap to purchase her own ticket, she was going to travel on a buddy pass, or as most backwoods non-travelers call it, standby.
She did not completely pack until the morning of the trip and then just went through her drawers and threw everything she owned into a suitcase, which she then had to have help carrying to and loading into the car. She is such a hoot! By the time she was in the car zipping toward Louisville to catch her 1:05 flight, and as a standby passenger was being routed from Louisville to Phoenix, then to Albuquerque (yes you read that correctly), she was a sweaty blob in the 100-degree humid steambath-like heat. On the way she bought some prescription-strength antiperspirant which she took the time to rub all over her body.
It did not help much, though, when as she approached the on-ramp for her Interstate, she saw there was an actual traffic jam on the ramps from both directions, with cops directing traffic. I know that you are going to immediately say, "Holiday World!" That is where they were all going, that giant park in Santa Claus, Indiana, that was what all this traffic mess was about...she grabbed the prescription-strength antiperspirant and did another rubdown.
Watching the clock tick off the minutes, she breathed a sigh of relief as she approached the bridge crossing the Ohio River into Louisville, Kentucky, but alas...construction. By the time she arrived at the airport and parked, she was feeling a little stressed out, and it did not help when she read on the parking ticket kiosk, "Starting July 1, this lot now charges thirteen dollars a day." Are you joking?? Too late to exit now.
When she walked into the airport she was surprised, no, shocked to see 500 people waiting in line at the Southwest counter to check luggage. Kathy was already standing there with a security document, and had she just packed in a carry-on bag, would have zipped right through that mess to the gate, but, as luck would have it, she decided to take a suitcase full of everything, including all five pairs of flip-flops, with her.
Knowing she was not going to get the 1:05 flight to Phoenix, Kathy made the call to her friend waiting in Albuquerque and broke the news. No big deal really, her friend said, just wait for the next flight.
Forty-five minutes later, she made it to the front of the line only to be told by the agent: "You are not going to get a standby flight out of here today, you probably shouldn't even bother to check that bag because it will end up at your final destination without you, and Monday is going to be your first chance to get out of here."
After collecting that 45-pound suitcase, her computer, and her Southwest-designed backpack (it is really adorable, she bought it in Venice, California, years ago and it still goes everywhere with her), Kathy found a seat and started making calls.
First call was to Susan in Albuquerque, who got all emotional and had thought, the first time she called, Kathy said, that she was exaggerating about 500 people in line, but actually, she reports to The Press, she had probably underestimated that figure. Next call to Tracy, her cousin, who was going to have dinner with her at the Phoenix airport, who took it in stride, then a call to her housesitters, her daughter and son-in-law who had settled in real nice at her house and could barely disguise their disappointment at having to give up their free one-week resort, Kathy told the reporter, and then she called her boyfriend, Don, who was thrilled she was going to be home and could barely mask his excitement, so he went to sleep and she did not see him, she reported, until about five o'clock yesterday evening.
So now Kathy is back home, sitting in her king-sized bed on Sunday morning, the day after her fantastic trip began, talking to reporters. She reported, "I'm going to try it again Monday. The day wasn't a total loss, though. I got to stop in Corydon, Indiana, on my way back home, to pee and ate great food at Burger King, the high-END one, and took some great cloud photos!"
We will keep you posted on the next leg of her journey.
As is normal for Kathy before she travels, she only slept about four hours the night before in anticipation. Being too cheap to purchase her own ticket, she was going to travel on a buddy pass, or as most backwoods non-travelers call it, standby.
She did not completely pack until the morning of the trip and then just went through her drawers and threw everything she owned into a suitcase, which she then had to have help carrying to and loading into the car. She is such a hoot! By the time she was in the car zipping toward Louisville to catch her 1:05 flight, and as a standby passenger was being routed from Louisville to Phoenix, then to Albuquerque (yes you read that correctly), she was a sweaty blob in the 100-degree humid steambath-like heat. On the way she bought some prescription-strength antiperspirant which she took the time to rub all over her body.
It did not help much, though, when as she approached the on-ramp for her Interstate, she saw there was an actual traffic jam on the ramps from both directions, with cops directing traffic. I know that you are going to immediately say, "Holiday World!" That is where they were all going, that giant park in Santa Claus, Indiana, that was what all this traffic mess was about...she grabbed the prescription-strength antiperspirant and did another rubdown.
Watching the clock tick off the minutes, she breathed a sigh of relief as she approached the bridge crossing the Ohio River into Louisville, Kentucky, but alas...construction. By the time she arrived at the airport and parked, she was feeling a little stressed out, and it did not help when she read on the parking ticket kiosk, "Starting July 1, this lot now charges thirteen dollars a day." Are you joking?? Too late to exit now.
When she walked into the airport she was surprised, no, shocked to see 500 people waiting in line at the Southwest counter to check luggage. Kathy was already standing there with a security document, and had she just packed in a carry-on bag, would have zipped right through that mess to the gate, but, as luck would have it, she decided to take a suitcase full of everything, including all five pairs of flip-flops, with her.
Knowing she was not going to get the 1:05 flight to Phoenix, Kathy made the call to her friend waiting in Albuquerque and broke the news. No big deal really, her friend said, just wait for the next flight.
Forty-five minutes later, she made it to the front of the line only to be told by the agent: "You are not going to get a standby flight out of here today, you probably shouldn't even bother to check that bag because it will end up at your final destination without you, and Monday is going to be your first chance to get out of here."
After collecting that 45-pound suitcase, her computer, and her Southwest-designed backpack (it is really adorable, she bought it in Venice, California, years ago and it still goes everywhere with her), Kathy found a seat and started making calls.
First call was to Susan in Albuquerque, who got all emotional and had thought, the first time she called, Kathy said, that she was exaggerating about 500 people in line, but actually, she reports to The Press, she had probably underestimated that figure. Next call to Tracy, her cousin, who was going to have dinner with her at the Phoenix airport, who took it in stride, then a call to her housesitters, her daughter and son-in-law who had settled in real nice at her house and could barely disguise their disappointment at having to give up their free one-week resort, Kathy told the reporter, and then she called her boyfriend, Don, who was thrilled she was going to be home and could barely mask his excitement, so he went to sleep and she did not see him, she reported, until about five o'clock yesterday evening.
So now Kathy is back home, sitting in her king-sized bed on Sunday morning, the day after her fantastic trip began, talking to reporters. She reported, "I'm going to try it again Monday. The day wasn't a total loss, though. I got to stop in Corydon, Indiana, on my way back home, to pee and ate great food at Burger King, the high-END one, and took some great cloud photos!"
We will keep you posted on the next leg of her journey.
Friday, July 16, 2010
FRIDAY'S SIGN
Really, this sign is self-explanatory: "Beware of big, menacing black waves, or Smoke Monsters if you were a fan of "Lost," that come out of nowhere and can knock your ass right off this sea wall! Stand here on this little piece of concrete held together by little yellow squares AT YOUR OWN RISK!"
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
A LITTLE SUMMER RESPITE - OR A TRIP TO LAKE MICHIGAN - OR SIGNS
Well...where to start! I know, I'll start with a segment from my trip to Michigan City, Indiana, and Holland, Michigan, both, surprisingly, on a huge lake, that I like to call "Signs." I noticed that there were a lot of dos and don'ts all over the place near the Inland Sea, Lake Michigan.
Once I started snapping photos of signs, I realized that I hardly had to say anything as a way of explanation, and since I'm a little crunched for time this evening already, I thought I'd just post this self-explanatory piece.
There is a lighthouse that is the most-photographed lighthouse in Michigan called Big Red. It is located in Holland State Park, Holland, Michigan. There is a LOT of publicity about Big Red, but not until you are nearly upon it does the above sign appear. It was worth the risk to proceed. They say more pictures are taken of this one structure than any other structure in the state. I took 200 shots of her myself, so I believe that is probably the truth. In another chapter, I will post some portraits of this old lady of the Inland Seas.
Well, here she is. She sort of demands that I insert a picture of her here...Big Red.
This would be Orley's Dock. Don and I spent probably 1-1/2 lazy hours sitting at the end of Orley's Dock just watching the world go by, by boat. The canal here was a lane into Lake Michigan at South Haven. I renamed it South Heaven because it pretty much was.
This sign seemed a little out of place...
Okay...gotta take a break here. I have a LOT more signs, aren't you all just wicked excited?? I'll post some more photos later.
Until next time...
There is a lighthouse that is the most-photographed lighthouse in Michigan called Big Red. It is located in Holland State Park, Holland, Michigan. There is a LOT of publicity about Big Red, but not until you are nearly upon it does the above sign appear. It was worth the risk to proceed. They say more pictures are taken of this one structure than any other structure in the state. I took 200 shots of her myself, so I believe that is probably the truth. In another chapter, I will post some portraits of this old lady of the Inland Seas.
Okay...gotta take a break here. I have a LOT more signs, aren't you all just wicked excited?? I'll post some more photos later.
Until next time...
Saturday, July 03, 2010
MY LIFE GOES BY IN THREES
I looked past him at the clock by the bed and
quietly took in the time, the hour, the night.
1:11 the time read, and I was mesmerized by
the hand of the night cradling me softly, the
songs of the summer wind whistling through
the screen and shushing me back to slumber.
And I slept. I slept and dreamed of a day when
the ocean would provide the melody and the
gulls the harmony while I dove deeper into my
dreams and reached up to take a star in my
fingers, hiding it like a jarred firefly on my
windowsill so I could feel the glow. And I
looked past him, at the clock, and was caught
in a peaceful smile as 2:22 was displayed in red.
I snaked my feet deeper under the covers, and
found that place where my toes fit in the pillow
top mattress, the soft indentations like snuggling
next to your lover with your bare legs tangled together.
Again sleep overtook me, the firefly glowed, the
music remained, the stars winked their blessings
throughout the universe, and I awoke, and watched
as the time changed. The red numbers rolled like
waves coming to shore to 3:33.
My life, it seems, progresses in threes. Like a hand
not wanted to be dealt in cards, but a movement of
numbers that is comforting, showing me that all is
right in the universe, that day will turn to night and
night to dawn tomorrow, and that my angels will
move around in my life like wisps of dandelion
cotton. All is right with my world when the red
numbers roll like waves coming to the shore at 4:44.
quietly took in the time, the hour, the night.
1:11 the time read, and I was mesmerized by
the hand of the night cradling me softly, the
songs of the summer wind whistling through
the screen and shushing me back to slumber.
And I slept. I slept and dreamed of a day when
the ocean would provide the melody and the
gulls the harmony while I dove deeper into my
dreams and reached up to take a star in my
fingers, hiding it like a jarred firefly on my
windowsill so I could feel the glow. And I
looked past him, at the clock, and was caught
in a peaceful smile as 2:22 was displayed in red.
I snaked my feet deeper under the covers, and
found that place where my toes fit in the pillow
top mattress, the soft indentations like snuggling
next to your lover with your bare legs tangled together.
Again sleep overtook me, the firefly glowed, the
music remained, the stars winked their blessings
throughout the universe, and I awoke, and watched
as the time changed. The red numbers rolled like
waves coming to shore to 3:33.
My life, it seems, progresses in threes. Like a hand
not wanted to be dealt in cards, but a movement of
numbers that is comforting, showing me that all is
right in the universe, that day will turn to night and
night to dawn tomorrow, and that my angels will
move around in my life like wisps of dandelion
cotton. All is right with my world when the red
numbers roll like waves coming to the shore at 4:44.
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
BLUE - THEME THURSDAY
Marissa was never the type of girl to do things the way people expected her to. Being unconventional and a little hyperactive did not seem irritating to her in the least, but it seemed to concern others. Whether it was her inability to organize her life, her impulsive nature, or the ease with which she withdrew and suddenly returned, she wasn't sure, but one thing she was always sure of was that there was somewhere she needed to be, and she was not there.
It was a Thursday, a day that was, in the midst of the Midwestern summer, a joyful surprise. The sky had taken on a dark, ominous tone, and with that cloud cover had come a cool, nearly chilly morning breeze, allowing the air conditioner to find a much needed respite. Marissa threw open the windows and the flower-scented wind swirled impishly around her curtains, so instead of jumping up and going right to work that morning, she rewarded herself by lying on her big bed later than usual, propped up by half a dozen pillows, reading her latest book while the room cooled to a tolerable level. Mother Nature even went so far as to force Marissa to pull the comforter up over her bare legs.
The birds seemed happier than they had been for awhile, too. Doves cooed, cardinals chirped, and the little finches sang merrily while they ate breakfast on the feeders she kept filled for them all year-round.
But even with all this pleasure surrounding her, the restless, impulsive woman could not quell the thought that something was missing, even today. Marissa closed her book and stared out the window at the clouds and drifted back to sleep with one thought on her mind...blue.
When she woke up, late for work and even more restless, Marissa threw a few pairs of shorts and a few t-shirts into a bag, jumped in the shower, and while brushing her teeth, dialed the number of her favorite airline. "I'd like a one-way ticket to...anywhere with a blue ocean," she said into the phone, using the agent's moment to calculate and shop for her to spit and rinse, and she was still smiling and humming when the outrageous last-minute price was quoted to her, but not to be deterred, she jumped online and quickly transferred the money to cover the ticket price, and when all was said and done, a quick run to the nearest airport was undertaken.
When she was tucked away into her ocean-view room with the windows thrown open, and the birds talking outside, the sea breeze swirling in around her, and the scent of the sea filling her senses, Marissa whispered..."Blue, that's what was missing today," as she stared at the crystalline water from her perch in the sky before running the few yards to put her feet in the warm salt water. "Blue, blue, blue, blue, blue," she sang as she spun in a child's twirl, kicking up water, her laughter carried off on the wind toward her bedroom where there was no ocean, head back, eyes closed against the brilliant sun, and true contentment overtaking her soul.
It was a Thursday, a day that was, in the midst of the Midwestern summer, a joyful surprise. The sky had taken on a dark, ominous tone, and with that cloud cover had come a cool, nearly chilly morning breeze, allowing the air conditioner to find a much needed respite. Marissa threw open the windows and the flower-scented wind swirled impishly around her curtains, so instead of jumping up and going right to work that morning, she rewarded herself by lying on her big bed later than usual, propped up by half a dozen pillows, reading her latest book while the room cooled to a tolerable level. Mother Nature even went so far as to force Marissa to pull the comforter up over her bare legs.
The birds seemed happier than they had been for awhile, too. Doves cooed, cardinals chirped, and the little finches sang merrily while they ate breakfast on the feeders she kept filled for them all year-round.
But even with all this pleasure surrounding her, the restless, impulsive woman could not quell the thought that something was missing, even today. Marissa closed her book and stared out the window at the clouds and drifted back to sleep with one thought on her mind...blue.
When she woke up, late for work and even more restless, Marissa threw a few pairs of shorts and a few t-shirts into a bag, jumped in the shower, and while brushing her teeth, dialed the number of her favorite airline. "I'd like a one-way ticket to...anywhere with a blue ocean," she said into the phone, using the agent's moment to calculate and shop for her to spit and rinse, and she was still smiling and humming when the outrageous last-minute price was quoted to her, but not to be deterred, she jumped online and quickly transferred the money to cover the ticket price, and when all was said and done, a quick run to the nearest airport was undertaken.
When she was tucked away into her ocean-view room with the windows thrown open, and the birds talking outside, the sea breeze swirling in around her, and the scent of the sea filling her senses, Marissa whispered..."Blue, that's what was missing today," as she stared at the crystalline water from her perch in the sky before running the few yards to put her feet in the warm salt water. "Blue, blue, blue, blue, blue," she sang as she spun in a child's twirl, kicking up water, her laughter carried off on the wind toward her bedroom where there was no ocean, head back, eyes closed against the brilliant sun, and true contentment overtaking her soul.
Thursday, June 24, 2010
TRIANGLES - THEME THURSDAY
Never being a very talented child, I spent the years when I wanted so badly to be in the prestigious group of kids in the grade school band, and as you probably have guessed by the title of this little story, as a percussionist. In my mind, I was a drummer as talented as any drummer with any rock band at the time. I would march on the football field, my body straight as an arrow, in perfect rhythm, with that cute little uniform and hat on, eyes straight ahead, taking great pride in my contribution to the music, especially when I had a great solo, smiling, everyone standing up and cheering and whistling! I loved the cold wind during the winter games, when I could wear those fantastic-looking drummer's gloves with my uniform.
But, as you have probably guessed from the title of this story, I could not quite make the cut to drummer. As a matter of fact, the band director tried everything to allow me to have a place because he knew how important that uniform was to my tender psyche. But when he handed me the triangle and asked me to audition for a place in the mostly-hidden stage band, I could tell by the look on his face that not only was I not talented enough to play the flute, the clarinet, the drums, the trumpet, the tambourine, or the oboe, I was not even good enough to play the triangle.
By the time that audition was over, I decided enough was enough. There was no place for me on that football field. My attempts at cheerleading were a dismal failure, especially when it was discovered my gymnastic talent went no further than being able to do forward rolls. My arms would not support my body in a handstand or even a cartwheel. My stint at being the mascot was thwarted when someone grabbed my big mule head and threw me over onto my back on the sidelines, just to see how funny it would look, and it did look funny, I am sure.
So now I am fifty-three. I found my talents were pretty much confined to the classroom, so I became the best medical professional I could become, which has come in handy since I have a very accident prone nature. Just tonight I tripped and landed hard on both knees and yes, I saw triangle-shaped strobes of light behind my eyelids as I sat there on my bloody and bruised knees and cried like a baby. I do not know if it was the pain that made me scream out, or the frustration that not only would I never be a cheerleader or a member of anyone's band, but I probably was not going to even be very good at mastering the role of little old lady with any sort of dignity.
But, as you have probably guessed from the title of this story, I could not quite make the cut to drummer. As a matter of fact, the band director tried everything to allow me to have a place because he knew how important that uniform was to my tender psyche. But when he handed me the triangle and asked me to audition for a place in the mostly-hidden stage band, I could tell by the look on his face that not only was I not talented enough to play the flute, the clarinet, the drums, the trumpet, the tambourine, or the oboe, I was not even good enough to play the triangle.
By the time that audition was over, I decided enough was enough. There was no place for me on that football field. My attempts at cheerleading were a dismal failure, especially when it was discovered my gymnastic talent went no further than being able to do forward rolls. My arms would not support my body in a handstand or even a cartwheel. My stint at being the mascot was thwarted when someone grabbed my big mule head and threw me over onto my back on the sidelines, just to see how funny it would look, and it did look funny, I am sure.
So now I am fifty-three. I found my talents were pretty much confined to the classroom, so I became the best medical professional I could become, which has come in handy since I have a very accident prone nature. Just tonight I tripped and landed hard on both knees and yes, I saw triangle-shaped strobes of light behind my eyelids as I sat there on my bloody and bruised knees and cried like a baby. I do not know if it was the pain that made me scream out, or the frustration that not only would I never be a cheerleader or a member of anyone's band, but I probably was not going to even be very good at mastering the role of little old lady with any sort of dignity.
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
WHERE'S FRED?
The bird feeders were hung by my office window with care, and suddenly birds were everywhere! I was so happy to be able to sit there and work and watch the antics of Fred, my favorite blue jay. He is smaller than most of the others, and his tail is a bit crooked, almost like he fought a cat and won. No wonder, if that was the case, he ruled the feeder!
There was the loud, tiny chickamouse, a yellow finch and a purple finch, the brightest red cardinals I have ever seen, and big, aggressive, beautiful blue jays, and two woodpeckers would even visit once in awhile and tap into the free food.
I would think that sometimes they were watching me as intently as I was watching them. As a matter of fact, I believe they were. Maybe it was me behind the glass while they strolled the world on wing, stopping at the nearest drive-thru for some lunch and a sip out of the angel bath, who was the zoo animal there for their viewing pleasure. Because a couple of nights ago, I moved the feeders out under the ash tree, stocked them with fresh food from Rural King, which they love, and the population has greatly diminished. It was the pooping on my patio chairs that forced the change. The morning after it was moved, a blue jay landed on the back of one of the chairs and sat there looking confused and unhappy. He looked at me and shrugged his shoulders, his pretty blue wingtips out like hands, his eyes questioning..."Where the heck is the food? What's happening to this city? Tearing down everyone's favorite hangouts? Even the pub down the street closed up yesterday." And with one more woe-is-me look, off he flew, and I have not seen him again.
I have a hose. The mess wasn't THAT outrageous. I think a lot of times they actually held it while on the chair, otherwise, it would have been awful. I am hoping that if I move it back, the zoo will open for them once more and they will buy their nice little maps at the gate and find me behind my glass, doing what humans do, pecking away behind a computer screen, and doing it proudly for the birds' pleasure!
There was the loud, tiny chickamouse, a yellow finch and a purple finch, the brightest red cardinals I have ever seen, and big, aggressive, beautiful blue jays, and two woodpeckers would even visit once in awhile and tap into the free food.
I would think that sometimes they were watching me as intently as I was watching them. As a matter of fact, I believe they were. Maybe it was me behind the glass while they strolled the world on wing, stopping at the nearest drive-thru for some lunch and a sip out of the angel bath, who was the zoo animal there for their viewing pleasure. Because a couple of nights ago, I moved the feeders out under the ash tree, stocked them with fresh food from Rural King, which they love, and the population has greatly diminished. It was the pooping on my patio chairs that forced the change. The morning after it was moved, a blue jay landed on the back of one of the chairs and sat there looking confused and unhappy. He looked at me and shrugged his shoulders, his pretty blue wingtips out like hands, his eyes questioning..."Where the heck is the food? What's happening to this city? Tearing down everyone's favorite hangouts? Even the pub down the street closed up yesterday." And with one more woe-is-me look, off he flew, and I have not seen him again.
I have a hose. The mess wasn't THAT outrageous. I think a lot of times they actually held it while on the chair, otherwise, it would have been awful. I am hoping that if I move it back, the zoo will open for them once more and they will buy their nice little maps at the gate and find me behind my glass, doing what humans do, pecking away behind a computer screen, and doing it proudly for the birds' pleasure!
Monday, June 21, 2010
A LOVE POEM
You wandered into my life, unsure, so small,
Then you wandered out again, feeling ten feet tall.
Butterflies sang when you were around
And everything I had lost was once again found.
Come home, hurry home, curl up with me
Beneath the big old ash tree
And bring your shattered heart for that
Would be the best place to start.
Open your eyes with your head next to mine
Open your eyes don't try to play blind.
Bring your soul, and my soul will meet you,
Our souls alone, in love, one now, not two.
Play your guitar on the top of the world
And sing the hummingbirds back to my yard.
Fold your arms around me, hold me closer
Give me the time to decipher the poster
Of the hearts on a string drawn there
Of the souls taking wing by the pair.
And then stay with me here forever and a day.
I know what you would love to say...
Sing stay with me, keep me, protect me
We both know our kind of love isn't free.
Turn on the lights the colored pretty lights
And let's make a wish on a hot summer's night.
Then you wandered out again, feeling ten feet tall.
Butterflies sang when you were around
And everything I had lost was once again found.
Come home, hurry home, curl up with me
Beneath the big old ash tree
And bring your shattered heart for that
Would be the best place to start.
Open your eyes with your head next to mine
Open your eyes don't try to play blind.
Bring your soul, and my soul will meet you,
Our souls alone, in love, one now, not two.
Play your guitar on the top of the world
And sing the hummingbirds back to my yard.
Fold your arms around me, hold me closer
Give me the time to decipher the poster
Of the hearts on a string drawn there
Of the souls taking wing by the pair.
And then stay with me here forever and a day.
I know what you would love to say...
Sing stay with me, keep me, protect me
We both know our kind of love isn't free.
Turn on the lights the colored pretty lights
And let's make a wish on a hot summer's night.
Thursday, June 17, 2010
WHOOPS...
Hey! What happened to my Theme Thursday post??
Don't worry...just follow this link! xxoo Happy TT!
http://photogimping.blogspot.com/
Don't worry...just follow this link! xxoo Happy TT!
http://photogimping.blogspot.com/
Monday, June 14, 2010
GOING HOME
I went on a road trip this past weekend. I went home. Imagine my surprise when I found myself wishing I could now go back and live in the little town I could not wait to get out of as a kid. Everyone keeps telling me, "There's a perfectly good house sitting there empty, and I bet the owners would give you a good deal."
For years I have wanted to knock on the door of the old house where I lived from birth to age eight when we moved to make it easier on my dad to go to work. He worked in the oil fields and was making a pretty long commute everyday, so we packed up and went with him. By this time I had a baby brother who I loved and adored. So, this time, I did it. I just walked up and knocked on the door and asked, "Do you mind if I take a few pictures just of the outside of this house? It's where I was born." And the granddaughter of the owner, after conferring with her ill grandmother, said, "Yes, that would be fine! Just be careful of the dog out back...he's friendly but he has sharp nails."
I really had no intentions of getting close enough to the dog to find out about his nails. He did not act particularly friendly when he saw me approaching the back yard, and my heart beat a little faster when he started toward me, until I realized he was securely chained up.
I have to admit, the back yard seemed HUGE when I was little, but it seemed very tiny when I was looking at it. A lot had changed and I found myself thinking about how much my life and my world really have changed in fifty-three short years. I would venture to say that things have changed a minimum of one-hundred-six times, usually for the better, sometimes not, but as I looked at the little house, only the good memories poured out of my heart where they were stored and into my brain so I could think on them awhile.
We went to the heart of the matter, too, downtown, to take some shots of the courthouse, and while there we saw a window display that just screamed Small Town Midwest USA. You can see in the reflection a gazebo. That is where every year I would parade around to be judged on my Halloween costume. Mom would work tirelessly to put together something she thought would win, and I never won. The only reason I liked it was that everyone got a lot of candy for participating.
You really can go home again. And sometimes you never ever want to leave.
For years I have wanted to knock on the door of the old house where I lived from birth to age eight when we moved to make it easier on my dad to go to work. He worked in the oil fields and was making a pretty long commute everyday, so we packed up and went with him. By this time I had a baby brother who I loved and adored. So, this time, I did it. I just walked up and knocked on the door and asked, "Do you mind if I take a few pictures just of the outside of this house? It's where I was born." And the granddaughter of the owner, after conferring with her ill grandmother, said, "Yes, that would be fine! Just be careful of the dog out back...he's friendly but he has sharp nails."
I really had no intentions of getting close enough to the dog to find out about his nails. He did not act particularly friendly when he saw me approaching the back yard, and my heart beat a little faster when he started toward me, until I realized he was securely chained up.
I have to admit, the back yard seemed HUGE when I was little, but it seemed very tiny when I was looking at it. A lot had changed and I found myself thinking about how much my life and my world really have changed in fifty-three short years. I would venture to say that things have changed a minimum of one-hundred-six times, usually for the better, sometimes not, but as I looked at the little house, only the good memories poured out of my heart where they were stored and into my brain so I could think on them awhile.
Wednesday, June 09, 2010
THE STORY OF TRUDY AND HERSCHEL - A TALE OF LOVE
"Why are you walking away from me like that?" She asked with a little huff in her voice. It did not seem quite right that she had broken her no-kissing-on-the-fifteenth-season rule only to be snubbed that way.
He hardly looked at her, though, as he turned his early-summer fully-feathered back to her and moved away on the sidewalk. Even the thought of waiting until the little kid got right up to him and then making that loud cooing noise and flapping wildly right in front of his face and scaring him into probably needing a clean diaper did not make Herschel happy. He just kept bobbing his head and softly, mournfully cooing his love song.
Being a dove is no piece of cake. There are all these mating rituals to consider. Herschel cannot even imagine that any other species has it as tough as he does when it comes to wanting to get in some dovette's pants. The only thing he knows to do, after fifteen years of courting this same dovette is try to gain her sympathy by bobbing and cooing, bobbing and cooing, and when he takes a moment to peek over his shoulder and turn a bright red eye on his girl to see how she is responding, he becomes even more despondent because not only does she not seem to care, but she seems to have found a delicacy that she appears to have no intention of sharing with her intended.
Herschel waddles back over to her and suddenly pecks his beak against hers, and they blush. But the honeymoon does not last for long when he asks her, "Your beak tastes particularly good today, may I ask what that was you were eating?"
The little female dove, as demurely as possibly in dove-speak says, "That was candy."
"Oh," replied Herschel. "I have never tasted anything quite as good as that!"
Finally, the rejected male dove, the very good-looking rejected male...no, wait, if he must say so himself, the very, VERY handsome, brave and good-looking male dove again turns his back and begins to waddle away, finally realizing that this is his last season and he has failed to win her over. Herschel gets off a really good kid-scare and coos and chuckles to himself all the way down the sidewalk when he hears, "Herschel?"
Bobbing and cooing, wondering if he should play it cool or rush to her side, Herschel turns and says, "Yes, Trudy?"
Trudy bobs and coos her way toward him with something in her beak, something red and sticky-looking, something foreign, and when she reaches him she cranes her neck out to him and makes her offering. Herschel taps Trudy's beak with his, and she pushes a piece of sugary, delicious candy into his beak, under his tongue, then steps back and shyly coos and bobs until Herschel puts out his handsome feathered wing and puts it over Trudy's sleek, slender shoulders, and off they go together, bobbing and cooing, to make a nest in the mansion willow tree across the street and raise their baby bobbers together.
A piece of candy can solidify friendships when shared. The bees know it, and even the birds know it. Hopefully humans know it still, too.
He hardly looked at her, though, as he turned his early-summer fully-feathered back to her and moved away on the sidewalk. Even the thought of waiting until the little kid got right up to him and then making that loud cooing noise and flapping wildly right in front of his face and scaring him into probably needing a clean diaper did not make Herschel happy. He just kept bobbing his head and softly, mournfully cooing his love song.
Being a dove is no piece of cake. There are all these mating rituals to consider. Herschel cannot even imagine that any other species has it as tough as he does when it comes to wanting to get in some dovette's pants. The only thing he knows to do, after fifteen years of courting this same dovette is try to gain her sympathy by bobbing and cooing, bobbing and cooing, and when he takes a moment to peek over his shoulder and turn a bright red eye on his girl to see how she is responding, he becomes even more despondent because not only does she not seem to care, but she seems to have found a delicacy that she appears to have no intention of sharing with her intended.
Herschel waddles back over to her and suddenly pecks his beak against hers, and they blush. But the honeymoon does not last for long when he asks her, "Your beak tastes particularly good today, may I ask what that was you were eating?"
The little female dove, as demurely as possibly in dove-speak says, "That was candy."
"Oh," replied Herschel. "I have never tasted anything quite as good as that!"
Finally, the rejected male dove, the very good-looking rejected male...no, wait, if he must say so himself, the very, VERY handsome, brave and good-looking male dove again turns his back and begins to waddle away, finally realizing that this is his last season and he has failed to win her over. Herschel gets off a really good kid-scare and coos and chuckles to himself all the way down the sidewalk when he hears, "Herschel?"
Bobbing and cooing, wondering if he should play it cool or rush to her side, Herschel turns and says, "Yes, Trudy?"
Trudy bobs and coos her way toward him with something in her beak, something red and sticky-looking, something foreign, and when she reaches him she cranes her neck out to him and makes her offering. Herschel taps Trudy's beak with his, and she pushes a piece of sugary, delicious candy into his beak, under his tongue, then steps back and shyly coos and bobs until Herschel puts out his handsome feathered wing and puts it over Trudy's sleek, slender shoulders, and off they go together, bobbing and cooing, to make a nest in the mansion willow tree across the street and raise their baby bobbers together.
A piece of candy can solidify friendships when shared. The bees know it, and even the birds know it. Hopefully humans know it still, too.
Tuesday, June 08, 2010
PLAYING WITH PICTURES
My cousin, Tracy, turned me on to a photo editing program called Gimp, last week, and I downloaded it and decided to give it a try.
A few days ago I bought some white rubber lilies that float and change colors when they are in contact with the water. Very cool, and the best part is, they were three for five bucks at Big Lots. If you are not lucky enough to have a Big Lots store near you...well, you just do not know what the heck you're missing!
Anyway, I took three of those cheap little things, and with no hope they would actually do anything, dropped them into my fountain on the patio. Not only did they do something, but they did something so totally wicked cool, that now at night I go out there and drop them in, and bought three more that I drop into my birdbath, then I just sit there staring in wonder and amazement as they float around and change colors over and over. And they're bright! I have to rate the floating lilies as one of my smartest purchases this year...so far. It is only June, so who knows what else I'll dig up before the end of this year.
Anyway, I took about fifty photos when I realized just how photogenic and wicked cool they were, and I Gimped up one for you and thought I would share the results here.
Introducing, "Lilies In The Fountain," my first Gimped up photo ever. I expect to have a show in the local gallery by the time I Gimp up a lot of other things! You will all be invited...BYOB, Starving Artist in the house!
A few days ago I bought some white rubber lilies that float and change colors when they are in contact with the water. Very cool, and the best part is, they were three for five bucks at Big Lots. If you are not lucky enough to have a Big Lots store near you...well, you just do not know what the heck you're missing!
Anyway, I took three of those cheap little things, and with no hope they would actually do anything, dropped them into my fountain on the patio. Not only did they do something, but they did something so totally wicked cool, that now at night I go out there and drop them in, and bought three more that I drop into my birdbath, then I just sit there staring in wonder and amazement as they float around and change colors over and over. And they're bright! I have to rate the floating lilies as one of my smartest purchases this year...so far. It is only June, so who knows what else I'll dig up before the end of this year.
Anyway, I took about fifty photos when I realized just how photogenic and wicked cool they were, and I Gimped up one for you and thought I would share the results here.
Introducing, "Lilies In The Fountain," my first Gimped up photo ever. I expect to have a show in the local gallery by the time I Gimp up a lot of other things! You will all be invited...BYOB, Starving Artist in the house!
Sunday, June 06, 2010
MY OLD HOME
It was not too long ago, at least it seems to me, that my brother, the neighborhood kids and I were playing loud, dangerous games of baseball in the back yard of my old homeplace in Fairfield, Illinois.
When standing in that yard, I can almost hear the shouts and the laughter, the fights and the makeups that went on there.
All things change, though. Every curtain falls, every story has its end as Susan Cowsill sings in one of her songs from the album "Lighthouse," and yes, this is a disguised post to get you to order her album...
But really, I wanted you all to see where I came from, where I played and cried and where my soul still resides.
We are wanting to sell the house. It has taken awhile after the deaths of our parents, to get to the point where we were ready, but we just had the inside repainted and are getting the shutters painted which should be ready to be hung back up this week, we have lovingly pruned, cut, mowed, dug, sweated and bled making the yard ready for the next people who will love our old house.
The house sits on a quaint little lane with a beautiful yard. The mimosa trees are in bloom, the lilies, the yucca plant, everything is teeming with life. Now the house just needs an occupant to put their own personal touches on it to make it their own, so when we drive by, instead of feeling sadness, my brother and I might be able to see life there and feel gratitude and contentment. We are now ready for that to happen.
Following are some pictures I took while I was down there this past week.
When standing in that yard, I can almost hear the shouts and the laughter, the fights and the makeups that went on there.
All things change, though. Every curtain falls, every story has its end as Susan Cowsill sings in one of her songs from the album "Lighthouse," and yes, this is a disguised post to get you to order her album...
But really, I wanted you all to see where I came from, where I played and cried and where my soul still resides.
We are wanting to sell the house. It has taken awhile after the deaths of our parents, to get to the point where we were ready, but we just had the inside repainted and are getting the shutters painted which should be ready to be hung back up this week, we have lovingly pruned, cut, mowed, dug, sweated and bled making the yard ready for the next people who will love our old house.
The house sits on a quaint little lane with a beautiful yard. The mimosa trees are in bloom, the lilies, the yucca plant, everything is teeming with life. Now the house just needs an occupant to put their own personal touches on it to make it their own, so when we drive by, instead of feeling sadness, my brother and I might be able to see life there and feel gratitude and contentment. We are now ready for that to happen.
Following are some pictures I took while I was down there this past week.
Monday, May 31, 2010
ANGEL BIRDBATH PART TWO
I am up. I am sore. I am sunburned. I am so happy with what I accomplished yesterday in my eco-yard, but still have so much to do, like turning the compost into the earth so next spring I can use that rich, fertile dirt for planting. I also think, after sharing my vision with my boyfriend about extending my patio, he might be onboard with that, which is lucky for me because what that means is that he will DO that for me. :-) Okay, not really all of it, I do my share as you will see by the photos below that show the stone walkway I began building yesterday and yes, I actually did the lifting and placing and measuring. (I decided twelve inches apart was best, since I can easily figure out where that is on the measuring device). Laughing out loud!
We also put the angel on a little pedestal. She looks as if she has a grotto now, she looks as if at any moment she might begin to glow and ascend into Heaven, as if she is holding court over the back yard.
Today is a workday for me. Have to make money so I can pursue all the other "visions" I have for Don to work on for me!
Happy Memorial Day to you all, and don't forget to say a little prayer for all our soldiers and all our wonderful people who have given us life and gone on before us. xxoo
We also put the angel on a little pedestal. She looks as if she has a grotto now, she looks as if at any moment she might begin to glow and ascend into Heaven, as if she is holding court over the back yard.
Happy Memorial Day to you all, and don't forget to say a little prayer for all our soldiers and all our wonderful people who have given us life and gone on before us. xxoo
Sunday, May 30, 2010
ANGEL BIRDBATH
There is something that people know about me, if they are around me a lot, and that is, I CAN be a perfectionist at times. Not always. There are times when I might be heard saying, "Oh, yes, well, that will do." But not too often. I won't settle often.
For three years, I have been hunting for the perfect birdbath for my increasingly eco-friendly back yard. I had an image in my head, and Don would patiently wait while I checked out the birdbaths nearly everywhere we went. You see, he knows, too...he knows that there is going to be a pretty huge window between when I start looking for something for the back yard and the time I actually make the purchase. The window this time was three years.
Yesterday was Memorial Day Saturday. My cousin is visiting from Phoenix, and Don and I took her down to our old hometown in Illinois to drop her to take care of her mom who has had a hip replacement surgery. Don and I visited with family around town, went to the cemetery to pay our respects to my mom and dad, and right across the highway from the final resting place of so many familiar souls, was a little store with probably a hundred concrete sculptures outside. When Don heard me take that little breath that was an excited little noise to me but to him said, "It's almost one-hundred degrees, the humidity is about ninety-five percent, and she is going to drag me over there to wander around in the hot sun for an hour and walk away with no birdbath."
Of course my compass was set, and I drove across the road and into the parking lot, and we started wandering around in the hot sun for an hour, but I found it! All this time and it was right there in my little hometown of 5000 people, standing by the highway, waiting patiently for me to notice after all these years!
After some wrestling around, she probably weighs eighty pounds, two guys at the store managed to get her into the trunk of the Focus. When we got here last night, though, Don's back had taken a really nasty muscle spasm, and it was not until this morning that I tracked down a couple of neighbors to drag that thing out of the trunk and place her where I wanted her. Once there, we took toothbrushes and Comet cleanser and scrubbed all the crevices in her wings until the years of neglectful dirt and grime was scrubbed off and she looked positively heavenly!
I took several shots of her, trying to capture the beauty, but photos do not do her justice. I expect to see birds crowded around for a turn in the cool water underneath my old, old, huge ash tree. Soon the cardinals and blue jays will have little beach towels out there and will be floating around in little swim rings sipping margaritas with umbrellas in them, or maybe, like the bat house that is situated in my yard, three years will elapse before they discover the fountain of youth I have installed for their enjoyment!
I wasn't drunk when I took this last one, but it's for my cousin, Tracy, because she loves to photograph at an angle, so I have an angled angel for her here...
I just heard a pool party going on outside, lots of flapping, splashing! I thought, "OH, wow! They have found my birdbath already!!!"
Now, here is the REST of the story. On the opposite side of my yard is a running-water fountain, just a small thing, a big bowl at the bottom and a series of angled smaller spouted bowls , three of them, over the top. The water runs into the small bowl from the pot at the top, down to the next bowl, etc., to the last big bowl. When I got to my back door and looked at my new, beautiful, clean, pristine, angel birdbath and saw it empty, I directed my attention, instead, to the little fountain across the yard where two fat robins, who together filled the bowl and couldn't even get a good flap going because there was no room, were in the bowl yelling at one another. Why do you think they were yelling at one another? "Get out of my way, you fat broad!" "Who are you calling FAT, you tub of lard, good for nothing robin!!" On and on and on...while I stood there waving my arms and pointing at the angel by the tree. By the time I got the camera, of course, they had finished their bathing and groaning and moaning and taken off.
Guess I am going to have to put a "POOL OPEN" sign over there until they catch on.
Ta-ta for now. More yard improvement photos after I return from Home Depot this afternoon!
For three years, I have been hunting for the perfect birdbath for my increasingly eco-friendly back yard. I had an image in my head, and Don would patiently wait while I checked out the birdbaths nearly everywhere we went. You see, he knows, too...he knows that there is going to be a pretty huge window between when I start looking for something for the back yard and the time I actually make the purchase. The window this time was three years.
Yesterday was Memorial Day Saturday. My cousin is visiting from Phoenix, and Don and I took her down to our old hometown in Illinois to drop her to take care of her mom who has had a hip replacement surgery. Don and I visited with family around town, went to the cemetery to pay our respects to my mom and dad, and right across the highway from the final resting place of so many familiar souls, was a little store with probably a hundred concrete sculptures outside. When Don heard me take that little breath that was an excited little noise to me but to him said, "It's almost one-hundred degrees, the humidity is about ninety-five percent, and she is going to drag me over there to wander around in the hot sun for an hour and walk away with no birdbath."
Of course my compass was set, and I drove across the road and into the parking lot, and we started wandering around in the hot sun for an hour, but I found it! All this time and it was right there in my little hometown of 5000 people, standing by the highway, waiting patiently for me to notice after all these years!
After some wrestling around, she probably weighs eighty pounds, two guys at the store managed to get her into the trunk of the Focus. When we got here last night, though, Don's back had taken a really nasty muscle spasm, and it was not until this morning that I tracked down a couple of neighbors to drag that thing out of the trunk and place her where I wanted her. Once there, we took toothbrushes and Comet cleanser and scrubbed all the crevices in her wings until the years of neglectful dirt and grime was scrubbed off and she looked positively heavenly!
I took several shots of her, trying to capture the beauty, but photos do not do her justice. I expect to see birds crowded around for a turn in the cool water underneath my old, old, huge ash tree. Soon the cardinals and blue jays will have little beach towels out there and will be floating around in little swim rings sipping margaritas with umbrellas in them, or maybe, like the bat house that is situated in my yard, three years will elapse before they discover the fountain of youth I have installed for their enjoyment!
I just heard a pool party going on outside, lots of flapping, splashing! I thought, "OH, wow! They have found my birdbath already!!!"
Now, here is the REST of the story. On the opposite side of my yard is a running-water fountain, just a small thing, a big bowl at the bottom and a series of angled smaller spouted bowls , three of them, over the top. The water runs into the small bowl from the pot at the top, down to the next bowl, etc., to the last big bowl. When I got to my back door and looked at my new, beautiful, clean, pristine, angel birdbath and saw it empty, I directed my attention, instead, to the little fountain across the yard where two fat robins, who together filled the bowl and couldn't even get a good flap going because there was no room, were in the bowl yelling at one another. Why do you think they were yelling at one another? "Get out of my way, you fat broad!" "Who are you calling FAT, you tub of lard, good for nothing robin!!" On and on and on...while I stood there waving my arms and pointing at the angel by the tree. By the time I got the camera, of course, they had finished their bathing and groaning and moaning and taken off.
Guess I am going to have to put a "POOL OPEN" sign over there until they catch on.
Ta-ta for now. More yard improvement photos after I return from Home Depot this afternoon!
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